Just before the dawn
by ladystrider77
Summary: Batman strikes a dangerous deal with the Joker as the two of them go down the very darkest of roads. Eventual slash and higher rating. JokerxBatman
1. Chapter 1

Just before the dawn…

This occurs after the Dark Knight so obviously there will be spoilers. I don't own anything, sadly enough. If slash-ish material offends you…why did you click on my story? The rating…well it is what it is. Nothing very racy happens just yet.

But it will…

I haven't written in years and what I did write back then was absolute garbage. I hope this is better. If not…sorry, review anyway and help me out!

On with the show…

Bruce sat in his favorite chair, staring sightlessly out the window of the penthouse. Today had been unimaginably miserable. Gordon had called to deliver the delightful news that the Joker had broken out of Arkham only weeks after his capture, thanks to the help of a female psychologist who was apparently quite taken with the scarred clown.

The caped crusader rubbed his temples, absolutely flummoxed as to what to do next. It would be hard to chase a criminal who handled his murderous affairs so publicly without being caught himself. Maybe they would cut him a break, just this once, knowing that Joker was someone they couldn't handle alone.

"Sorry to disturb you Master Wayne, this just arrived for you."

The billionaire turned his head slowly, ignoring the screaming protests of his battered muscles as he did so.

"Yes?"

The butler handed over a bright green package.

He stood and slowly opened the box, extremely wary of the most likely volatile nature of the contents. It held another green box, this one smaller with a handle on the side.

"A jack in the box sir, it appears our fiendish friend has wasted no time getting back to work"

Bruce leaned back and cranked the handle, making sure to keep his face out of range of anything that might pop out. All that came out at the end of the song was a clown doll with a scrap of paper gripped in its menacing teeth.

**MISS YOU BATS!! MEET ME TONIGHT AT THE DOCKS. YOU KNOW WHAT MIGHT HAPEPN OTHERWISE…**

Bruce flung the box and cursed loudly.

"Alfred, how flimsy is security at Arkham? I almost died trying to catch this monster, Rachel and Harvey both lost their lives on the road to his capture and they just let him walk out!"

"Sir from what I hear Dr. Quinzell was very helpful in bringing this about. He wouldn't have been able to do it without all of her keys and codes."

He began trudging towards the door, grabbing the keys to the warehouse on the way.

"Don't wait up, Alfred"

Batman stood on the highest loading platform overlooking the docks, hoping not to be surprised by the Joker's entrance.

He was surprised anyway when he saw the man walking towards him in an incredibly straight-forward way, no goons, no _visible _weapons.

"Why'd ya have to go all the way up there? That's a very long climb and I've had a very long day. Wouldn't you rather be down here…with me?" The last words poured out of the red lips like thick honey. Shivers shot like lightening down Bruce's spine, shivers he didn't like at all.

The Bat glided down from his perch, landing at the feet of the purple suited man

"That's so much better. So how've you been lately sweetheart? Lonely without the happy couple? I must admit I expected Dent to wreak a little more havoc before you brought him down. Gave him too much credit I guess."

The lunatic smiled to see the face underneath the mask begin to harden with anger.

"Oh Brucey, hit a nerve have I?"

"What did you call me?"

"Oops, cats out of the bag then! Yes mister Wayne, I've known, the entire time I was biding my time in Arkham. Your friend the D.A. let it slide that he had his suspicions about the man behind the mask." He licked his scarred lips slowly, eyes boring deeply into those of his enemy.

"I must say I've seen you about town and I'd love to know why you hide such a pretty face behind a mask. You have no scars, no disfigurement, nothing but young, supple, flawless flesh…"

"Thanks for the complements but I have my reasons. Did you have a reason for this meeting or did you just want to hear yourself talk?"

"That right there. That is what I love so very much about you. That spirit, that spark…that shining beam of incorruptibility, just begging for me to test its limits. It's why a guy like me gets up in the morning. You give me a purpose no one else ever could."

Bruce was silent, knowing there was no possible response to this twisted flattery.

"You made me Bruce. You created what I am, almost as if you reached out into the darkness you fought so fiercely and asked for something more, a foe worth your time. Finally, a worthy adversary. And here I am, in the flesh. And since we've decided that neither of us is going to kill the other, we may as well enjoy our time together since neither of us is going anywhere."

"Enjoy my time with the criminal who murdered my friends?"

"Why not? Have you got anything better to do?"

He began to circle the batman, getting closer with every step, eyeing him lecherously.

"You humor me and I won't tell anyone who you are and I won't kill anyone."

"How can you mean that?"

"You have my word as a professional; no one will die as long as you play my little game."

This made Bruce extremely nervous. Putting himself in some kind of sick danger to save the lives of everyone in Gotham…that was nothing. But the look in those black eyes and the husky timbre of his voice had the Dark Knight more afraid than he'd been in a long time.

"What exactly does that entail?"

"Oh I can't tell you now Brucey, it's all part of my little game. You'll just have to wonder until I'm ready to come for you."

He smiled; wide enough that it seemed the scars would burst open.

A noise in the distance caused Batman to take his eyes from the Joker who quickly grabbed him by the neck and drew his face next to his own. He ran his thumb from the edge of Bruce's mouth all the way up his cheek bone. As the Bat jerked away he noticed the painted man close his eyes and inhale.

He ran his hand through is green hair and whispered "Until we meet again!" as he disappeared into the shadows.

Review please!


	2. Chapter 2

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Thank you so much, my lovely reviewers! You are the only reason I open this blank word document and let my twisted thoughts spill into being. I allowed anonymous reviewing, I wasn't aware I didn't allow it before!

Standard disclaimer, I don't own any of the lovely characters mentioned below.

To my readers – you should get a few updates a week. Not on the weekends, but during the week I sit at my desk and do nothing, so that's when the writing should occur.

And here we…go!

* * *

Bruce slammed his fist against the wall, shattering the silence in his apartment. It had been over a week and he'd had no sign of the Joker. The paranoia was maddening. He didn't think it was possible to spend more time looking over his shoulder than he already did.

He was wrong.

To him every person walking down the street in a bright suit was a predator, waiting for his guard to drop. Every smile he saw was a grim omen of what fate and the Joker had in store for him.

Shockingly enough the man had kept his word. Bruce was biding his time, waiting for the clown's summons and in the meantime no more deaths had been reported and no press had showed up at his door step with video cameras throwing questions about his secret identity at him. Another huge relief.

Almost like it had been asked for there was a knock on his door.

"I'll get it Alfred."

He'd kept his deal with the devil a secret from everyone, even Alfred and Gordon. The Dark Knight was utterly was ashamed of his twisted predicament and had no idea how to vocalize his fears, mostly because he didn't know what they were. Joker had never gotten into specifics, but as Bruce closed his eyes and recalled the way the lilting voice had electrified him to the core – he knew it couldn't be something he'd want to share with Alfred.

Bruce reluctantly opened his eyes and unlocked the door, revealing an abandoned Fed ex envelope. He glanced around the corridor and seeing no one retreated to his room.

Surely the Joker wouldn't use Fed Ex? This had to be from the office.

As soon as he opened it he knew who it was from; the unmistakable scent of gun powder and leather eminated from the packaging. Feeling no full size paper inside, he turned it upside down and emptied the contents into his lap.

A dozen trademark joker cards littered his legs and the floor. Most of the cards just had HA HA HA scrawled across them in bright red lettering but one had print on it, almost as if it had been passed through a typewriter.

Where does a criminal on the run find a typewriter?

The card read

**_GoTHAm zOO_**

**_MiDNiGhT. NO cops_**

**_NO baTSUit_**

**_I lIKe yOUr PRettY FaCE_**

**_- J_**

This was going to be difficult. Facing a dangerous criminal defenseless and unarmed? Bruce sighed, resigning himself to misery and went to take a shower; it was going to be a very long night.

It was freezing. The wind was coming in heavily off the Gotham river, chilling Bruce through his leather motorcycle jacket. The snow would come soon, blanketing the sins of Gotham, making it appear more innocent and beautiful than it really was.

The red motorcycle squealed to a halt beside the long abandoned wrought iron gates of the zoo. The weight of the knife in his jacket pocket was the only thing comforting about walking willingly into this trap.

The not-so-very caped crusader leaned against the cold metal of the empty lion's cage…and waited.

"Baaaaaaatsy? Oh my dear batsy where are you?"

Bruce stiffened. He wanted nothing more than to run straight for his motorcycle and never come back here again, to put things back into his own control and be Batman, not the Joker's next victim. But this freak had already killed enough people. The clown's reign of terror ended with Harvey.

"Here!" He tightened his grip on the weapon in his pocket as he answered.

A hint of white makeup appeared from behind a tree, followed shortly by a dingy purple suit.

"Well hello beautiful. It's been such a long week, hasn't it? I've been so looking forward to this moment."

He continued his predatory gait, not even pretending to conceal his destination. Wayne backed further against the cold bars of the cage, his throat tightening and his palms sweating.

"Nervous, sweetheart? Don't be afraid. I've kept up my end of the bargain. I've been a very good boy for you. Are you going to return the favor?"

Fear had now taken full possession of Bruce, almost as powerful as Crane's toxin. He couldn't answer; all he could manage was a slight twitch of his head that might resemble a nod. Without his suit he was no super hero, he was just a man at the mercy of a criminal, like any other. Only this particular criminal didn't seem to have eyes for any other man…

The Joker stopped and crooked a finger in the direction of his prey. Was he kidding? It took every ounce of concentration to swallow and breathe, much less walk.

The murderer didn't like this one bit.

"Come here Brucey"

He still didn't move.

A terrifying gleam appeared in the Joker's brown eyes and warned Bruce that this was going to be exactly what he feared.

"You're just gonna have to learn to do what I say Brucey. I don't have time to make deals with bats that don't cooperate."

Bruce took one hesitant step forward and then another.

The ripped mouth turned sideways into some sort of sick grin.

"Now that's more like it pumpkin." He then began to circle the younger man, dragging the purple leather of his gloves across Bruce's shoulders in a twisted dance.

"What do you want from me?"

"_From _you? Are you kidding? I figured it was obvious."

Taking Bruce totally by surprise the Joker slammed his body into Bruce's, forcing him to stumble backwards into the cage.

Up close the scars were even more menacing.

"I want _you_, Bruce Wayne."

And then those impossibly scarred red lips covered Bruce's own, matching the rough kiss with the forceful pressure of the entire length of one body against another.

At first Wayne was too shocked and repulsed to move. Then as the surprise wore off and blind, animal passion took its place the kiss took on the tempo of one of their fights, a slick battle for dominance; tongues instead of weapons, grunts of pleasure and heady sighs instead of screams.

The clown broke the kiss, forcefully tilting the Dark Knight's head against the metal and leaving a steaming trail down his neck, none-to-gently nibbling the sensitive skin.

"Not so bad, is it Brucey?"

The brunette managed to shake his head and lean further away, revealing more tanned skin to the other man's eager mouth.

A loud bang echoed in the fog, causing the pair to visibly flinch and leap away from each other, trying to peer through the thick mist and find the source of the sound.

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OOOH CLIFFY. I'm usually not that evil but it's the weekend and I'm off work now.

I hope you enjoyed it! Leave me more lovely reviews and I'll have another chapter for you by Monday evening! Thank you and have a great weekend!


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again ladies! (I'm assuming that 99 of my readership is female; correct me if I'm wrong). I am so sorry I didn't get the chance to update yesterday. One of the other girls in my office is out all week so I'm having to do twice the work and Bruce and Mr. J are taking the hit!

Can you believe this story has had **OVER 1000 hits**!? You guys rock my world, seriously. Although the hit to review ration is pretty off.

I'm going to try to take my time with this chapter to get it just right. I kinda pushed myself to get chapter two cranked out before the weekend and Batman's dignity suffered a little as I shoved him off the OOC cliff. Sorry Brucey. This chapter should explain at bit more.

Many thanks to you guys for the thirty something reviews and special thanks to Evil-Irish-Wolf for sending a marvelous plot bunny my way!

Let's put a smile on those lusty little fangirl faces!!

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Dusk was Bruce's favorite time of day. Not because the he found the sunset particularly fetching, but because these were the rare moments when he was neither Bruce Wayne nor Batman – for a short time he was someone else entirely; someone who could sit calmly on his bed and think objectively about the events of the night before. Despite no evidence that the noise the pair had hear was a person, Bruce had run at top speed from the zoo, cringing to hear the maniacal laughter that echoed behind him. "GONE SO SOON LOVER? YOU'LL BE BACK BATSY, DON'T DOUBT THAT!"

He had kissed the Joker. Gotham's silent protector, its Dark Knight had submitted to the most vile scum to have ever walked it's streets. Was he really only doing it to avoid further carnage in his city, or did he have other reasons for allowing the older man to…to do what he had done?

He wasn't sure anymore. Deep down he knew that even with out the bat-suit he could have found a way to overpower the Joker and bring him in to Gordon. And yet…he hadn't. This thought was terrifying. Had Bruce really spent so long among the inhabitants of Gotham's underbelly that this kind of behavior was acceptable to him? There were so many things wrong with the situation.

One…the Joker was a wanted criminal and Batman was supposed to be his enemy and captor. This man had killed Rachel, the person Bruce cared most about in this world and driven Dent, Gotham's one hope for salvation to utter madness. He should be fighting with everything he had to take him down. He should stop at nothing to punish the freak for what he had done and yet…the idea that someone, anyone had the slightest conception of the madness within, the lunacy that threatened to spill over into his daily life…was tempting.

Two…the Joker was a man and Bruce was, well, straight. As befitting to his playboy status he had been with his fair share of ladies in his years but the thought of being with any man, especially this creature that once called himself man, had never crossed his mind.

And three…did he even need a third reason as to why he should probably march right down to Arkham and check himself in? No, not really.

A knock resounded in the glass enclosed room.

"I'm not hungry Alfred!"

Ignoring the interjection, the only remaining person that cared about Bruce Wayne stepped in the room.

"Master Wayne I know this shirt you wore last night is one of your favorites but I think it's just going to have to go. What ever…lady you spent the evening with wore some kind of lipstick that bloody well won't come out! There's nothing for it, my apologies."

Bruce froze, more mortified than he had ever been in his entire life. Here was Alfred, the man who had known Bruce since the day he was born, who had been mother and father and mentor since his parent's death, holding up the evidence of Bruce's twisted sin from the night before.

A blush the deepest shade of crimson crept into chiseled cheeks. "I'll take it Alfred, thanks for trying." He stood and crossed to his butler, taking the soiled shirt and tossing it onto his bed, hoping Alfred would forget about it or at least not question him further.

The old man didn't fail to notice the blush on his employer's face. He gave him a knowing smile.

The usually confidant young man looked down, too ashamed of himself to meet Alfred's gaze. "Anything else, Alfred? I'm going down to Wayne Manor to have a word with the superintendent about the foundations on the East Wing and then out for dinner, I'll be late."

* * *

As soon as he was alone, the blue shirt found its way into Bruce's calloused hands. Sure enough there was a glaring line of lipstick on the collar, proof that the criminal had ravaged Bruce's neck with his hungry mouth. Brown eyes closed and he could almost feel the heat from that mouth on his skin, the rough brush of stubble, prickling through thick white makeup. As dark desire welled up in him like a furnace, Bruce growled and flung the offending thing against the wall where it slid limply down the glass, landing in a heap. But that wasn't good enough. He snatched it from the floor and flung it in the fireplace, hoping his desire for the man he should kill would curl upon itself and turn to ash.

* * *

Bruce and Alfred both knew damn well the superintendent would be long gone by seven thirty but the billionaire paced around the ruins none-the-less. The madness and torment Bruce had struggled for so long to keep at bay were slowly creeping towards the edge of his consciousness, or so he could safely assume. This man, this monster that he was allowing to have power over him had killed Rachel…_his Rachel_. "No Bruce" he reminded himself out loud. "Harvey's Rachel." His Rachel had died the moment her childhood friend had donned the mask that would separate them for the rest of her life.

Every sound, every rock that shifted and echoed in the yawning abyss of wood and mortar put the Batman on edge, reminding him that it wouldn't be long before the Joker found him and the war between Bruce's weakness for temptation and Batman's duty to his friends and his city would begin.

And sure enough, there he was, standing at the top of a pile of gravel like some conquering hero, or perhaps like the monster he was, waiting to conquer the hero.

DAMN cliffy again. I'm evil. The next chapter will be everything you wanted it to be, I just felt like I needed to back track a bit and give you a closer look in Bruce's head. It's a weird place. So…I hope that has redeemed me in your eyes and I'll be back very soon with something delicious.


	4. Chapter 4

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Oh man. You guys make me happy. Close to two thousand hits on this story. That's phenomenal. And more than sixty reviews, holy crap. Since I beg and plead for reviews and feedback then I, in turn, must do what I can to satisfy you guys! I am going to really try not to push the boys beyond the realms of possibility but I think that just by even _thinking _this story, I've already done that. So…what I'm going to do here…is write out my little Joker/Batman fantasy in the best style of writing that I can coax from my brain and then hope that it tickles your fancies like it does mine.

Sorry for babbling.

You want longer chapters? Can do.

P.S. I listened to change by the deftones while I wrote this so...maybe you should too?

* * *

Bruce continued to stare downward, slowly tuning out his own thoughts, turning down the blaring volume of his mind. It was so much easier to deal with the Joker if he wasn't thinking about _it_. If he could just let his instincts take over, it didn't seem quite so twisted. Bruce couldn't bear to think of how ashamed his city would be of him if anyone ever found out what was really going on, but that was a thought that angered him as well. How dare anyone judge him for what he did in his free time! The joker couldn't kill anyone while he was in Bruce's arms, could he?

Batman had captured the Joker on many occasions, but what good did it do if he simply escaped again? The very least Bruce could do was keep the painted man occupied. A busy lusty Joker was better than a bored murderous one, for Gotham at least.

Gotham City had created both of them. Each of them had risen on the tides of corruption and thrived in the darkness. They were two sides of the same coin. They would keep this city in balance, keep it in that ordered chaotic state that so suited a city like Gotham. And if things kept going the way that they were, they'd keep each other warm at night.

The Joker made loud smacking noises, licking his ragged lips as he strode towards Bruce, paint-darkened eyes never leaving anxious brown ones.

"I'm so glad you've been _receptive _to our little game. It would be too boring if you decided to go all noble on me and spoil the fun. That's all I'm after Brucey, a little fun."

The Joker continued to ramble on, as was his way. Batman could see the sporadic hand gestures and guess the meaning, but the words fell uselessly past his ears.

"Shut up."

The Joker pause, confused, "What did you say? Has Brucey got a temper? You know good and well what happens to naughty little rich boys that misbehave…"

"**SHUT UP**!" Bruce didn't know why but he couldn't take it anymore. He just couldn't stand to hear the sound of that voice for another second. Or at least, that's the reason he gave himself for what he did next.

With as much force as the clown had used to initiate their first kiss, Bruce roughly grabbed grimy purple lapels and yanked the lanky form forward, covering the smiling mouth with his own, pressing their bodies together.

The Joker managed to laugh through the kiss as he played along; giggling at the bat as a sun darkened hand strayed into green tinged locks, knotting through them to press the obliging mouth closer to his own, effectively stomping out the taunting laughter.

Bruce took a moment to imagine what they must look like. A young, well dressed man, looking every inch the playboy at leisure, wrapped around this twisted force of chaos who calls himself man.

"_Mmm_…taking the reins I see. All you had to do was ask."

"I thought I told you to shut-up."

And once again he silenced the criminal with his mouth. Surprisingly enough the Joker's exploits on Bruce's body seemed almost child-like, as if he didn't quite know what to do with his hands. The stray thought crossed the Batman's mind that perhaps in the midst of all the destruction and world-burning that kept him so occupied; this man didn't take the time for lovers. And even if he did, what normal person would oblige? He shut down that train of thought immediately. That wasn't a question he needed answered.

The scars felt even stranger from the inside. Bruce probed them slowly with his tongue, feeling a slight twinge of alarm as he realized that they weren't just on the surface as he had originally thought, these cuts had sliced _all the way_ through the man's face.

At that point things began to escalate, breathing got heavier, hands strayed lower and Bruce slowly moved the pair over to a workman's table, leaning the Joker over it, grateful for the leverage.

The clown laughed again as he scooted backwards on to the table. "Oh my Batsy, so forward! What would your parents think?" He batted his eye lashes and wrapped his legs around the Bruce's trim waist, trying to look demure and give off the impression that he was some sort of blushing bride.

Wayne continued to ignore the man's speech, placing his hands on either side of the painted face and forcing him all the way into the grainy wood of the table. The Joker groaned, the delicate cadence of his voice deepening every time Bruce pressed harder, moved faster or used his body to demand more of the criminal.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" The Joker murmured breathily between kisses. "You always ask that question at really inappropriate times. No, I don't," was the grunting response he received.

The clown then paused to admire his handy-work. The dark knight had a look of wanton lust in his eyes, white make-up smudged on his nose and chin. The very best part was the smeared, whore-red lip stick on his perfect pouty lips. He reached up and in what Bruce perceived as a tender embrace, smeared the lipstick into a smile resembling his own. In response he closed his eyes and leaned into the hand on his cheek, dragging his lips along the delicate wrist bone.

And that was the moment when Bruce won; when the Batman's will finally came to dominate the twisted world of the Joker. The painted face just stared, frozen, the ragged mouth hung open. The criminal known as the Joker had gone somewhere else and all that was left before Bruce was a man. A man with all his insecurities laid bare for Bruce to see. The man whose sanity had left him long ago realized that this wasn't about winning or sex. This was about bare, basic human intimacy; the kind that had escaped him most of his life. What was going on right now was pure chaos of the Joker's favorite sort; the uncontrollable, inevitable kind.

This was something that had been in the making since first they locked eyes at Harvey's little party. And every step they had taken towards and away from this moment had been the Joker's doing, pushing and pulling the Batman to the very edge of his sanity. But now that he had him right where he wanted him, grinding hips, questing mouth and eager hands, every delicious inch of him; the Joker was afraid - afraid because now the Bat had power over him too. He who could be threatened with nothing felt threatened, terrified at the thought of this ending. The idea of no Batsy to fight, the very notion that he might never get to taste the sweet flavor of Bruce's mouth (coffee with a hint of brandy) was worse than another impending stay at Arkham.

"Now what?"

"Oh nothing, I've just remembered that I've rigged a convenience store to blow and since you've been so very agreeable, it's only fair if I preserve the lives of Apu and his family."

And just like that he extricated himself from the strong arms that held him, straightened his jacket and started walking towards the road.

"No worries Brucey" He shouted over his shoulder "We're not finished just yet"

Bruce Wayne stood in the shadows of his home, more confused than he had ever been in his life.

"What the hell was that?" He wondered aloud.

* * *

I know some people asked for longer…and that felt longer but it also felt like the natural ending point for this chapter. Thank you all for being patient with me and extra thanks to **evil-irish-wolf** who couldn't be more helpful and marvelous.


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter is dedicated to my roommate Brooke although I don't remember why.

It's good that you guys read these little scribbles I put up here, I at least, feel that they are relevant. So many people have read, favorited and reviewed this chapter and it makes me so very happy. I've been busy moving lately so hence the delay. Also I couldn't for the life of me think of what direction to take them in. So sorry if this is…a mess. I'm desperately hoping that this chapter will be the steamy interlude you've been waiting for.

I already used up my dark, sexy song so I listened Wicked Game covered by HIM.

I tossed a few of the lyrics in where I felt they were relevant, mostly out of order. Thanks to Chris Isaac who wrote it. Again I own nothing.

* * *

**_ The world was on fire and no one could save me but you_**

Cold air drifted through the open window, billowing the sheer curtains and ghosting across Bruce's bare skin. Normally the billionaire would recognize the foolishness in leaving a window wide open when it was almost freezing outside but it couldn't be helped. He had dreamt of the Joker _again _and was desperate for anything to cool the fire that raged beneath his veins, whatever it took to stem the desperate yearning for the man he should never have touched.

**_ It's strange what desire will make foolish people do_**

Sometimes even Bruce Wayne, even Batman, had to admit that some things were impossible, that this desire would not disappear, instead it would smolder and burn and leave nothing but destruction in its wake.

_**I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you**_

This wasn't about hormones or attraction or anything else that made sense in a rational world. This was inevitable, undeniable. The forces between the Dark Knight and Gotham's most wanted criminal were as strong as the pull of gravity on the earth.

_** What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way**_

After hours of tossing and turning, the brunette had almost managed to push these thoughts far enough from his mind to allow for sleep.

_**What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you**_

Just as he began going over soporific memos he had reviewed at the office, something disturbed the metal frame of the French window.

He sat up just in time to hear a rumbling chuckle echo in the darkness.

"Who's there?" he asked in his Batman voice (out of habit), knowing full well who had just broken into his home.

"Evening, Batcakes."

Intruding onto his personal property was one thing; Batcakes was another.

"Walking straight into Batman's home? That's ballsy even for you, Joker."

The Glasgow smile pulled tighter but the dark eyes remained focused on the way white silk sheets pooled around Bruce's bare abdomen, promising more tone skin below.

_ **No, I don't want to fall in love**_

The man continued to advance towards the bed, saying nothing and depositing items of clothing as he went.

_**And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you**_

The purple jacket was on the chair, tie tossed over the shoulder and the bright green vest landed on the pointless glass at the foot of the bed. Bruce thought it was incredibly stupid but his over-paid, under-talented decorator had insisted on them.

The Batman was in shock. Not a single word had escaped the painted lips since his greeting.

Just as Bruce opened his mouth to ask why he was being so quiet, a long, makeup stained finger pressed to his lips. The young man stared up at the towering figure before him, unsure of how to proceed.

Based on the smoldering look in the haunting brown eyes, Batman was eternally grateful that Alfred was away at some relative's wedding.

The other man grabbed Bruce by the shoulders, pulling him to his knees.

"Let's play quiet mouse, shall we Bruce?"

"Did you just call me Bru…?"

His query was silenced with another searing kiss, sending a bolt of adrenaline to the very tips of his tremulous limbs. A calloused hand tangled in brown hair, forcing Bruce's head backwards and granting his opponent more access to his feverish mouth.

Batman had never felt so bare before. With the Jokers eager tongue in his mouth and his strong hands on his body, Bruce felt like every part of him was exposed, down to the very core.

This had gone so far beyond a deal to save Gotham. This was about saving themselves. Every heated moment between them was an attempt to bail out a sinking boat. Each of them had both come so close to succumbing to utter darkness, retreating back into that which made them. But when they were together, they were something more. They were two people that had a chance at something other than an eternal game of cat and mouse, even these snatched moments made Bruce feel more alive than he had since his parents died.

The feel of leather gloves sliding down his bare chest caused Wayne to shiver with pleasure, digging his blunt nails into the worn fabric of the Joker's shirt.

"Please" He sighed, his husky voice a mere whisper in the darkness.

The other man took his request to heart, climbing onto the bed and straddling his lover's muscled thighs.

"Please what Bruce? You have no idea how delicious it is to hear you beg; YOU who always try to be in control of everything, begging little ole' me to just _take you?"_

"More, just more, please."

To show his eagerness, Bruce renewed their kiss, clumsily unbuttoning the other man's shirt between breaths. Girls didn't wear dress shirts. As he splayed his fingers across the thinly corded muscles of the pale chest, he knew what it must be like to touch his own torso, countless constellations of scars marring the otherwise smooth surface.

As he broke the kiss for oxygen Bruce realized how strange it was, with the bright costume gone and most of the makeup rubbed off from heated kissing, the Joker looked almost…normal. He looked almost as bare as Batman felt.

Bruce relished the feeling of relinquishing control; his muscles tingling with anticipation as the other man pushed him back to lie flat against the soft bed. The clown prince smirked at the easy acquiescence and leaned down to ravish the heavily muscled chest with his mouth.

The texture of the jagged scars sliding across sensitive nipples was exquisite, drawing sighs from the younger man as he arched his back further into the touch. To make matters worse, as soon as the warm, wet heat of the mouth left his skin, the freezing air from the windows sent more waves of sensation across the receptive peaks of flesh.

Not knowing who initiated the movement, suddenly they were flipped and turned; Bruce was on top, laying flush against the lithe body of his counterpart. One of the billionaire's tan hands snaked between their bodies, palming the Joker's obvious desire and receiving a low moan in return. The narrow hips thrust upward, silently requesting more. Just as he had done, more of anything, rub me harder, kiss me faster, let me feel that friction just a bit longer.

The pants had to go. A few deft movements and the purple trousers were gone leaving (surprise?) nothing underneath. A strong hand circled the criminal's erection, leaving both parties grateful for the absence of the barrier.

"Bruce…" The name came out as a delicate sigh, barely audible in the huge room. The afore-named worked his hand faster, desperate to hear that sound again, to hear that unusual voice whisper his name.

Soon, bony hands were grabbing the black silk of Wayne's boxers, dragging them down his legs at a frenzied pace.

They lay there for a moment, realizing that both of them were lying there naked, flesh to flesh, desire against desire. There was a moment of deliberation, had they gone too far? Were the boundaries between enemies so far behind them, they could never go back?

Yes. And neither of them cared.

Bruce drew the thick flesh of the man's bottom lip into his mouth, worrying the soft tissue with his teeth. Then he paused again, staring into dark eyes, so similar to his own.

"Are we sure about this? I think we might have gone a little beyond our original deal."

"I'm a man of my word, Bats."

As he spoke, he reached down and gripped Bruce's hardened length, massaging it with delicate strokes, so much gentler than Batman would have thought him capable of.

They shared the air between them as their breaths mingled and soon neither of them was sure whose moans and sighs of pleasure they were hearing, each enjoying the symphonic bliss of his lover's groans and whimpers.

Bruce's name echoed throughout the room, used as a plea, and encouragement, even an expletive. In contrast Bruce uttered no name, it felt to ridiculous to throw his head back and moan _Joker…_so he stuck to wordless whispers and cries of "_Yes, there…" _which seemed to satisfy his partner just fine.

Bruce came first and the Joker (certainly not to be outdone by Batman) followed soon after with a guttural moan.

They lay entwined, panting and sweating on Bruce's ruined thousand dollar sheets. Inexplicably, the clown turned away from his lover but grabbed his arm, tugging it around him in a tight embrace.

Soon, the older man was snoring – still clutching Batman's strong arm around his chest.

Lulled by the sound of a smoothly beating heart and slightly wheezy breaths, Bruce was finally able to enjoy a dreamless sleep.

_** Nobody loves no one**_

* * *

I really hope you got _some_ satisfaction out of that chapter. I know I did. It's so awkward writing that stuff at work but I really do my best, I hope it didn't disappoint.


	6. Chapter 6

I just want everyone to know that I have the best readers. Your positive response to chapter five was phenomenal and very much appreciated. You guys seriously make my life. Over five thousand hits on this story, can you believe it? I have no idea how far I'm taking this story but as long as I continue to have ideas, you'll continue to be able to read them, thank you again. This is for you guys and of course for evil-Irish-wolf, my partner in slash crime.

My song for this chapter was Welcome Home by Coheed and Cambria.

(LAST P.S. I promise. For the purposes of this chapter, let's pretend that Batman is in fact NOT being actively pursued by the police, thank you!)

* * *

For what felt like the thousandth time since the Joker had bombarded into his life, Bruce felt like he had absolutely no idea what to do. He had just received a call he'd been expecting for quite some time; Gordon had gotten a tip off about Joker's location and was all too eager for the Dark Knight to soar in and capture the bad guy.

This was a ridiculous predicament that he should never have found himself in. Batman only existed to capture and deter criminals, not make love to them and stall the cops for them. Bruce knew what he _should_ do; he should put on his suit right now and deliver the Joker straight to Gordon. It would be even easier than before, having the criminal's trust as he now did but…the thought that he may never again feel that slim frame writhing beneath his own…well, he didn't want to think about it.

He realized that this wasn't a decision for Bruce Wayne to make. Bruce was just a man, he could be swayed by lust, emotion and any number of uncontrollable variables but Batman was a symbol, he was incorruptible. Or at least, that's the theory he was running with for now…

Never before had it taken him so long to put on his suit, his fingers feeling too heavy to move nimbly around the Kevlar like they usually did.

"DAMMIT!" He groaned in frustration, shaking the sides of the suit's rack. This just wouldn't do. He had a duty to his city and the Joker didn't stay in one place for very long. The Dark Knight had to be what Gotham needed him to be.

* * *

The city reflected the mood of its protector; thick darkness cloaking the Batman as he flitted between rooftops. Joker was getting sloppy; he should never have chosen his hide-out so close to the city. He should have stuck to the narrows where no detective (save himself) would have ever ventured in pursuit. Bruce didn't know if he could get either of them out of this. He'd look sloppy and out of character if he let him get away but selfishly, he knew he could never again hand him over to a life sentence in Arkham. His addiction to the sadistic criminal was getting worse by the day; every time he closed his eyes he could hear the breathy moans and see the destroyed red mouth, open and waiting for his kiss.

The thought that he would be with the Joker soon, regardless of the situation caused Bruce to bite his lip in anticipation. That alone was enough of a motive for Batman to fling himself from building to building with more and more abandon, so much faster than usual.

He knew the hideout the moment he saw it. It was just so _Joker. _Batman landed quietly outside the abandoned O'Neill textile factory, resisting a smirk at the large posters of brightly colored socks that adorned the windows.

The clowns were prepared for him, waiting in the shadows. As he approached he became curious about their orders. Were they supposed to try to beat the crap out of him or was he merely to be detained until the Clown Prince himself was ready to have his way with him? Bruce fought down the shudder and promptly dodged a kick in the face. That answered the question.

They were so easy to dispatch. Thanks to a few well aimed kicks, the first two would be out for several hours. Just as he was about to land a decent punch on the jaw of the last clowns, a loud bang echoed on the walls of the alley. The smiling lackey fell dead before the gloved hand even made contact with his face.

And there was the man who had so thoroughly arrested Bruce's attention, standing lazily in the door way.

"Sorry about that, Love-muffin. Good help is just sooooo hard to come by these days" he cooed.

"You just killed your own man. That seems counter productive."

The purple shoulders shrugged. "He had a thrilling life of crime and narcotic drug use to look forward to. I just did him a favor. That's what I do, my delicious little flying rodent. I do people a favor by showing them the truth in their own lives"

"And who appointed you for this job?" Bruce questioned, anger flooding into his voice.

"You did, sweet cheeks. You showed up with your cape and your pointy little ears and your vengeance and no one could stand against you. You were unchallenged and lonely. You may as well have asked for me by name and here I am!"

The Joker continued his predatory gait, closing in on Bruce just like he had that first night. But this time, Bruce was ready. He was prepared to resist the strange appeal of smudged black eyes and the swiftly darting tongue.

"You can't just kill people because you feel like it! Human life is valuable, Joker."

"Who's gonna stop me Batsy, you?"

The criminal was pleasantly surprised when the Dark Knight used his full strength to slam the smaller man into the brick wall of the alley.

"Yes, me. That's why I exist. To stop men like _you."_

"And just who are you trying to prove that to? Me? Gordon? The city? _Or to yourself? _How many times will you have to try and convince yourself that you truly are out to capture me until you believe it? Oh thousands… and it still wouldn't be enough. _Because it's not true. _You want me, dare I say even _need_ me. I can almost feel how strong your desire for me is." He licked his lips slowly, further proving his point that Bruce had no will to resist him.

Even as desire radiated through his body like a hot coil, Batman struggled for control, pulling the other body towards his own, only to slam it into the wall again – harder this time.

All he received was laughter. That damned infuriating laughter, the reckless abandon like a man on his way to hell with no hope of reprieve. And then, before Batman even had time to process the movement, a shining knife was at his check.

"If we're gonna fight, let's make it an even one, shall we?" He slowly dragged the tip of the blade from the prominent cheek bone all the way down to the edges of the pursed mouth.

"So perfect. Don't you ever get tired of being perfect little Brucey? Wouldn't you like to just relax and enjoy being wrong? Everyone needs a little corrupting now and then, even the Batman."

Silence hung between them like a banner, reminding them that there were no more words worth speaking. The Joker smirked and attacked Batman, startling him from his train of thought with a feral grown and a searing kiss. His lips molded to Bruce's, his hands gripped the ears of the cowl, tugging the unwilling face forward.

The adrenaline from the fight with the clowns was still burning in his veins, heightening every sensation and blending desire with aggression. He hitched one of the purple-clad legs around his waist, grinding his groin against the Jokers, knotting his hands in the matted hair. Desperation seeped into the embrace, drawing harsher, faster reactions from both of them. The green haired man let out a low chuckle as the Bat ravaged the tender skin below his ear, kneading the pale flesh with his blunt teeth.

"Harder, Bats. I want you to feel me through that suit of yours. Feel what _you _do to _me._"

He further pushed his point by meeting the Dark Knight thrust for thrust, brutally crushing their desires together.

Just as a black gloved hand began sliding inside the purple waistband, everything changed. Batman heard the faint echo of a police radio around the corner and in a move so fast his teeth ripped the Joker's bottom lip, his face was inches away, his forearm against Joker's neck, forcing him into the wall.

* * *

Gordon leapt out of the approaching cruiser as soon as it came to a stop. The scene he was met with was so very different than the one he would have found moments before. The commissioner approached the pair who looked every bit the hero and villain. Maybe if he hadn't been quite so tired, he might have noticed how disturbed and edgy Batman looked or how the Joker didn't struggle at all, he just hung limply against the wall, held up only by Batman's arms – a haunted smile on his ragged features.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to slither away this time, you sneaky bastard." The cop said, smiling enthusiastically as Batman held the cackling lunatic still long enough to be handcuffed. The usual controlled demeanor was all Gordon saw but inside Bruce's mind raced in a panic.

His old friend and half of the MCU were _this close_ to finding him en flagrante with Gotham's most wanted. How fucking reckless had he become? As he continued to mentally berate himself they began to lead the Joker towards the S.W.A.T. van.

He would have been able to do it, he was fully prepared to watch the criminal be led away and resume his life as normal. But then…the Agent of Chaos turned his head and stared at Batman over his shoulder. As soon as their eyes met Bruce knew.

"Gordon, wait! I'm riding with him. You know he'll find a way out of that car."

"If you must" the commissioner responded reluctantly. As Batman leapt into the van behind the criminal, Gordon pretended not to notice the smears of make-up on the black mask or the dot of blood on his hero's lips.


	7. Chapter 7

Wonderful, lovely readers –to you I cannot apologize enough. This delay was inexcusable and I'm so very sorry. If you want to thank someone for finally having an update don't thank me, thank my most recent reviews and of course EIW for giving me the incentive to write again.

I hope it was worth the wait!

Bruce tried to be as calm as possible as he took his seat in the SWAT van. This was inexcusable and certainly not how he had planned to spend his evening. The Joker didn't look the least bit apologetic.

"Quite a little predicament we've found ourselves in, isn't it Batsy?"

"This is ridiculous, is what it is. I've got no way to keep you out of Arkham this time. If you escape, Gordon will know what happened..."

"Oh I know and that's horrible and all but I do so hate to share. It will be so much more fun this way. Both of us on the run from the world. I don't think you get it, snugglemuffin. You are _mine_. I won't share with Gordon or anyone else.

At this he slithered down from the bench, managing to look remotely graceful as he scooted across to Bruce, his hands still cuffed behind his back.

Batman slammed his fist against the wall in frustration but opened his thighs for his lover, nonetheless. The Joker fit between the other man's legs like he was made to be there, suddenly frustrated with his restraints, he continued to fidget behind his back as he stared deeply into the Dark Knight's black eyes.

Bruce psychically struggled with reason and logic as he brought a gloved hand to wipe the blood from the red lips.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you?"

The other man just shrugged and leaned into the rough touch of the glove. As though he knew exactly how to manipulate the bat's weaknesses, he stared up through his thick lashes and slowly ran his tongue over his scars.

"You'd miss me rich boy. Those silk sheets are mighty cold if you're not fucking me in them."

"You can't ever just shut your mouth, can you?"

The clown just smirked and leaned up, silently requesting a kiss. Bruce unhappily obliged, silently praying there would be traffic on the way to the MCU.

"I know how much you hate making quick decisions" the Joker muttered between kisses.

"But you've got another one to make now. And I'm very curious about the outcome of this one."

The Batman pulled back and eyed the painted man suspiciously.

"You meant to get caught, didn't you? You're not stupid enough to stay that close to the city…you probably even told Gordon yourself where you would be. All you wanted was to see if I would get you out of it and sacrifice Batman's reputation?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you mean by that Batsy. Little ole me, do something as _diabolical_ as that?"

"I'll kill you myself, one day."

"I'm counting on it."

As soon as the words escaped his ragged mouth, Joker revealed that he had uncuffed himself and climbed to straddle the thighs of his fuming lover.

"How else is a gal to know her man is serious about her?" He batted his eyelashes in a twisted mockery of the female sex.

"Ask me?"

"How droll. I thought you knew me better, sweetcheeks." At that he began to slowly roll his hips against the thick material of the suit, placing his hands on Bruce's shoulders for leverage as he ground their pelvises together.

Bruce growled deep in his throat as he contemplated either getting the Joker out of the van or slamming his head against the wall until that stupid smile disappeared completely.

But then the chuckling psychopath stopped his movements and looked at Bruce like no one ever had, not even Rachel. He looked like he needed Bruce, like he wanted no one but him. And as easily as that, his choice was made.

"I think I must be the crazy one. Let's get out of here."

The red lips smiled that too-tight smile.

"I know you better than you think" He continued to grin as he planted a sloppy kiss on the cheek of the mask.

"Not worries, rodent. I've already done all the thinking and planning, all you had to do was oblige."

"Great…"

The man reached deep in the fathomless pockets of his purple pants and produced a very small detonator.

"If you hurt anyone..." Batman growled, placing his hand threateningly on his utility belt.

The only response he received was a "who, me?" look.

A short series of explosions later, they were running full speed through the shadows, both hoping desperately to make it to the warehouse before the cops steadied themselves and gave chase. When he realized their escape was by a very small margin, he scooped the Joker in his arms and sent a grappling hook sailing towards the low roof of an apartment building and with some difficulty managed to catapult them both to the safety of the abandoned rooftop.

In his typical annoying fashion, the criminal had decided against standing on his own two feet and kept his legs wrapped around the narrow waist of his lover, frustrated that his feet kept getting tangled in the cape.

"We'll wait about twenty minutes, then we can go home."

The clown raised his eyebrows, sending Bruce to the realization that he had said "we can go home". Oh well, that would have to be dealt with later, now was not the time.

Wayne somehow managed to disentangle himself from the sinuous limbs that he so loved to caress and settled the two of them on a bench.

They sat in silence, each of them catching their breath and unsure of what to say. After about five minutes the Joker began to fidget like a child, as though now all of his electric energy had no where to go. He was tapping his feet at a frenzied pace and gnawing on a fraying edge of his glove.

"We can leave now, if you'll promise to stop that."

The only response he got was an impetuous glare and the immediate cessation of the damned tapping.

Bruce was utterly exhausted as he trudged through the warehouse towards the closet for the batsuit. His muscles ached with a slow burn – the Joker was _heavy. _

"If you touch anything in here, you're sleeping outside."

Immediately a loud clang echoed through the empty space as the guilty party hastily put down a large weapon and shoved his hands behind his back, whistling.

Batman muttered to himself about feeling creepy for making love to such a weirdo as he turned to remove the suit, piece by piece.

He extended his arms above his head and bent back slighty, almost purring at the relief the stretch brought him. As he bent down to remove the last piece from his thigh, his legs were knocked from underneath him by the rolling chair from his large computer console.

"WHAT THE HELL?" He barked indignantly as he was hastily rolled to the darkest corner of the room. Finally the erratic movement stopped and the Joker stepped around to face the angry brunette.

"So the way I see it, I haven't been very nice today. You've done everything I asked of you and what have I done in return? Gotten you in trouble with Papa Gordon and messed up a few more squad cars. So why don't you just relax?"

Once again he schooled his features into that look he knew Bruce couldn't resist, sliding down to his knees as he did so.

"We could go back to the penthouse; it's really not that far." A gloved finger was placed on his questioning lips.

"Quiet Bats. I said relax." He leaned forward to further silence his partner with his mouth, drawing his tongue slowly across the pale pink lips. Bruce deepened the kiss, knotting his fingers in the faint green curls and forcing the mouth further onto his own. Joker broke the kiss, drawing Wayne's bottom lip forward as he went.

He returned to his favorite spot between the muscled thighs, his eyes never leaving his lover's.

"I always wondered what you wore under that thing…" he mused as he used his fingers to tease the black fabric of the tight boxers. Bruce's head fell back against the chair as gentle hands freed his burgeoning erection, drawing breathy sighs from the hero. Tanned, calloused hands gripped the striped labels and pulled down hard, demanding that the chuckling mouth make good on its promise.

The criminal happily obliged and brought the Batman to an ending so complete and powerful, tears escaped from his tightly closed eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

I have readers in 38 countries! That is so crazy. I appreciate every last one of you! Thank you once again for your lovely reviews and encouragement, you make me very happy.

I have a slight request. If any of you art fannish artists and feel up to it, I would love to see some of my scenes drawn. I can hardly draw stick figures but I would love love love to see some of my good scenes come to life. I would heartily reward anyone! You can email them to me at scatteredellipse at gmail

Disclaimer: As per the usual I don't own any of my characters, sadly enough

This chapter isn't very sexy and it's quite short but it covers some key plot points I needed to address. The next one will be very sexy and as long as I can possibly stand to make it.

Bruce was extremely grateful that he kept a large, surprisingly comfortable cot in the back corner of the warehouse. He and the Joker had really broken the thing in through the wee hours of the morning. Just before he rolled over to embrace his sleeping lover an unexpected voice echoed through the mostly empty space.

"Master Wayne? I really must put my foot down about this. What is the point of being a butler if I have no one to buttle for? This wretched thing is for storage, not sleeping."

A tidal wave of hot shame and guilt coursed through Bruce's veins, paralyzing him with fear of this ridiculously embarrassing discovery. Just as he rolled over to cover the naked Joker with…anything, he discovered that he was in fact alone but for Alfred.

Confused but grateful, the young man stood, also grateful that he had pulled his boxers on sometime in the night.

"Sorry old friend, it's just so convenient and once you've slept on the floor of an Asian prison, anything seems comfortable." He apologized as he plodded to the computer.

Alfred continued to mutter about stubborn vigilantes as he picked up the discarded pieces of the bat suit.

"Alfred I'd been thinking, do you think the mansion will be done in time for the Christmas party? I'd like to do another charity masquerade…what's your opinion?"

Bringing the subject to something far detached from his renegade lover was the best idea, in Bruce's mind.

After a strange silence he swiveled around to see what was distracting the usually responsive man. At the sight before him, a fresh sense of panic struck the billionaire. The man appointed by his parents to safeguard their only son was holding a boldly colored tartan sock that had been deliberately stuffed in the groin piece of the batsuit. Batman cursed inwardly - that clown was going to get it for this…

"Alfred I…I can explain." That was a lie. The highly educated man wracked his brain at a frenzied pace for any excuse for the damn sock being there. He came up with nothing. The greatest detective in Gotham was stumped by a sock.

The old man merely held up a wrinkled hand and shook his head.

"Master Wayne I know you better than anyone else on this earth. I changed your diapers, I signed your report cards and I know exactly why this is here. I'm not going to pretend that I approve or even understand." The awkward pause was weighted with unanswered questions.

"However, you've been through things that would have broken an ordinary man - yet you seem to have found some way to cope and retain at least some sense of normalcy. I would prefer not to see it or hear about it but how you deal with things is your business."

He was flabbergasted. Here he was, literally airing his dirty laundry in front of his most trusted friend and he had just been handed a free pass. That was…fortunate. He exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Thank you Alfred." He knew that no more words were necessary. Alfred wouldn't want to discuss the manner any further and he was only too happy to leave it be.

Just then, proving that it was not going to be Bruce's day, his phone informed him that Jim Gordon was calling.

He answered in a very un-batman-like voice, with a hint of trepidation.

"I don't know what happened in that van and I don't want to but I'm glad you left him with us this morning."

"Left him with you?"

"Well I assumed it was you that deposited him on our doorstep, handcuffed cackling like the lunatic he is."

"Right…er…well, he's taken care of."

"You didn't do it…did you?"

The heavy silence confirmed all of Gordon's dark suspicions.

"Look I…the thing is…" Wayne heard the man curse and attempt to reorganize his thoughts. He truly hated himself for doing this to the two men he respected most in this world. He had carved his entire life in two. There was the part that involved Gordon and Alfred, the strained, uncomfortable half. The other part was the nameless one. This was his time spent with the Joker when everything was dark and passionate and declarations of love were wordless and painful.

"I know that you've been doing something I'd rather not know about with that man. I don't…I thought you were…"

The usually together man's strangled words made Bruce feel like a child getting that first horrible sex talk.

"Whatever it is, I don't like it but the thing is, he's been behaving lately. I don't know what you felt like you had to do for this town but…once again I feel like I have you to thank for our safety. I'm not going to let him out but I have no delusions that he'll remain here. I don't think there's a facility in the state that could hold that creep for long…so I guess as long as you keep him under wraps I'm not going to spend millions more of the taxpayer's dollars trying to catch him again and again."

For the second time today, Batman was stunned into shocked silence. He truly didn't deserve to have people like Alfred and Gordon in his life, even if they were two of the only people in his life at all…

"Thank you Gordon." The rough voice of the Dark Knight responded, hoping it sounded like his usual gruffness rather than the emotion that threatened to seep through.

"Er…sure." And the conversation was over.

That damned clown had gotten him into two horribly awkward situations he had no business being a part of.

Was a little bit of decent sex worth all of this?

As he contemplated this, his brown eyes wandered to the table where Alfred had placed the offending sock.

Thinking about the sock made him think about the delicate ankle and slim leg it usually encased and how those legs felt wrapped around his waist…how that macabre mouth moved against his own…what that sing song-y voice did to his libido.

Yes, it was certainly worth it.

A hundred and something people have this story on alert...reviews are beautiful things


	9. Chapter 9

I'm back! Sorry about the ridiculous delay, our favorite pairing has just been riding in the back seat for awhile.

* * *

The Wayne Christmas party was the social event of the season. Every well-to-do citizen of Gotham spent countless days hunting like truffle pigs for an invite and the perfect outfit. An appearance at the seasonal soiree was an absolute must for anyone who was anyone in upper class society.

Bruce hated it.

He'd spent fifteen minutes struggling with his bowtie and the thing was about to get shredded. He'd been dreading this tired custom for days and now that the moment was at hand, he couldn't stop his fingers from trembling with anxiety.

"Master Bruce the guests have begun to arrive, I feel like it's just about time for you to put in appearance."

"Almost done Alfred, I think there's something wrong with this stupid thing…" Strong, wrinked hands batted away Bruce's own, just like when he was a child.

"You've gone and twisted it; you're no good with tiny, detailed operations – botched stitches, mangled bowties. Some things you should really just leave to me."

"Sorry old man, you know the holidays make me jumpy."

"I remember. Let's just get it over with, shall we? I think the governor has already started drinking and I just know he'll have sherry all over the couch if I don't watch him."

Bruce smiled and followed his butler out the door.

Every conversation was the same, empty and lifeless. Where would he be spending Christmas? How was business this quarter, who was he seeing…blah blah blah. Boring.

He sipped his second glass of champagne and stared out the vast window, nodding at appropriate intervals. It wouldn't do for the Mayor to be ignored.

He knew why he felt so agitated and detached. The stupid clown.

No word from the criminal in two weeks. He'd kept his promise and laid low, of course but that wasn't enough. He had an amazing propensity to get himself in trouble and Bruce felt better if he was able to keep tabs on his lunatic lover.

Their last tryst had been brief and unsatisfying thanks to an ill-timed interruption by the penthouse maids. He was grateful the Joker had worn a wig that day, it kept an awkward moment from being a horrendously awkward moment.

Wayne was jostled into the present when someone knocked into him and sloshed Champagne on his Valentino jacket. The woman apologized profusely, patting him unnecessarily in areas where she had not spilled anything. He accepted her apologies and politely excused himself to change, indicating to Alfred that he wasn't just trying to sneak away. The answering nod and glance looked almost smug and sneaky…what on earth was that old butler up to.

As he approached his bedroom the sound of glass breaking echoed in the empty hallway. Bruce immediately went into Bat-mode, flattening himself against the wall and creeping the distance to his door, extremely wary of what on earth might be in there. If it was Peterson and his mistress in there _again_ there would be hell to pay.

The door was slightly ajar so it was almost silent as he pushed it a few more inches. The sight before him was the once he most wanted and least expected. Joker was kneeling on the floor next to a broken vase, muttering to himself and pushing around the shattered pieces.

"Broken broken broken. Bats is going to be aggravated, always breaking things…all you ever do, break and shatter and burn and destroy _everything. _But not this. Can't break this, it's all…all that matters. Rich boy won't notice, he's sooooo busy at his fancy party, chatting and boozing with the Gotham elite, no time for little ole' me."

The glint of moonlight revealed spatters of blood pooling around the glass, making an even bigger mess as the maniac picked up the shards with his bare hands, slicing tiny rivets across his palm and fingers.

The younger man crept quietly toward his lover, grateful for the background noise of the party.

Knowing he'd probably get stabbed for it, he silently knelt behind him and reached around to seize the trembling, bloody hands.

"I didn't like that thing anyways"

Surprise covered the painted face as he whirled to face the sneaky intruder, slipping his wrists free in an instant.

"And you think I'm crazy, you're the one who sneaks around in his own house in the dark."

"I don't know why or how you're here but I don't care. I'm just glad you are." The millionaire smiled, running his fingers down the smeared white cheek.

He could tell that tonight was going to be one of those needy nights, when there was no talking because words were obsolete. All there was between them was desire and bare need.

Bruce stood and closed the door, tugging off his wretched bowtie on the way. The Joker rose to his feet and began slipping off his jacket, smearing blood into the purple fabric. Wayne noticed this and shook his head, crooking his finger in the direction of the large bathroom.

The criminal hesitantly paced towards the ornately tiled room, questions and confusion in his eyes. Bats had never made him shower before.

Once this door too was securely locked behind them, Bruce began removing the dingy purple suit, dragging his fingers lovingly across every jagged scar.

"Brucey I'm not really a rubber duckies and bubbles kinda guy…"

He was quickly shushed with a finger, a finger he greedily popped into his mouth, slowly suckling around the calloused digit.

It only took minutes to fill the giant marble tub with hot water but longer than that to cajole the unwilling man into it.

Finally, after a brief struggle with a faulty cufflink, they were both seated in the steamy water, facing each other.

After pausing a moment to give time for objections, Bruce dragged a soapy hand through the matted green locks, slowly rubbing the grime from the once-bright curls. Then, slower and much more gently, he smoothed a soft cloth across the slightly resentful face, taking great care not to scratch the scars or get soap in his eyes.

After twenty minutes and an awful lot of soap the Joker was just an ordinary man, wet brown curls hanging against his pale skin. Beautiful.

Bruce knew he might not get a chance to see this again, to see this deeply into his flamboyant lover.

J used Bruce's stunned observation of his shiny new physique as an opportunity to climb into his lap, comfortably settling his knees on either side of the tanned buttocks that awaited him.

The Batman leaned back against the marble, granting further access to his neck and heaving chest, sighing contentedly as his earlobe was sucked into a warm, teasing mouth.

Soon their naughty bits were grinding together in the lukewarm water, setting them both on a frenzied exploration of the other's lithe body. The sight of normal, almost sincere brown eyes staring out at him without the menacing black make-up was maddening to Bruce, who yanked them both from the water, dragging a slippy, slidey Joker across the tile towards the bedroom.

After more frantic kissing and rubbing, the Joker muttered something else about ducks. Wayne rolled his eyes and asked him to repeat his statement.

"I said I want you to fuck me, Bruce."

Pausing to make sure he heard right, he smiled broadly and leaned down to kiss the lips that looked so pale with out their customary red smear, pulling the strong body tightly against his own.

"Are you sure?"

He bit his lip and nodded, reaching between their bodies to place Bruce right where he wanted him.

They both gasped as their bodies molded together, each of them push and pulling and begging for more.

Later, as they lay there spent and soaking wet from sweat and bath water (ruining yet another pair of expensive sheets) Bruce smiled at his sleeping lover, knowing that no one had ever seen this man like he had. He felt possessive and utterly terrified that he'd lose this.

He knew it was inevitable; you can't hold smoke in your hand forever.

But for now, just for now...he belonged to Bruce.


End file.
